


Trapped

by Insertsmartnamehere



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Impalement, Injury, Whump, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insertsmartnamehere/pseuds/Insertsmartnamehere
Summary: Steve and Bucky get trapped in a collapsed building. With Bucky injured and no way to find help, Steve has to take care of his friend himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing I own is the pain I've put those characters in.  
> Please review if you can find the time, I am just a sad writer that feeds on comments.

Steve woke up on a hard surface that certainly wasn’t his bed. A few long moments, he felt like some baby animal just crawling out of it’s shell; unsure of the world, weak on it’s feet. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking three times before he realized that the haziness of his surroundings had nothing to do with him.

There was dust all around, staining his suit gray and making every breath tickle. He sat upright carefully, his head hurting, his limbs stiff, and rubbed his face. Maybe he had fallen of something? That was the moment the reality came rushing in. It felt like a dam breaking, the truth streaming into is head, knocking over everything on the way. Steve was left panting.

The surface he had woken upon was hard, because it was a floor. The dust in the air was not just dust, but the remains of thousands of stones crashing into each other. He hurt, because he had fallen from a third floor, together with that same third floor. And together with…

‘Bucky!’ Steve gasped. ‘Bucky, can you hear me? Where are you, pall? Answer me!’

He looked around frantically. Somehow, the rubble and debris had built a kind of tent around him; iron bars and broken tiles, chairs, bricks, doors, all of it holding each other up in a doubtful balance, leaving just enough room for him to get up and to his knees. For a guy in a collapsed building, he had had a hell of a lot luck. But had Bucky had the same luck?

He crawled to the ‘wall’ of the room he was now locked in. Peering through the ruined rests, he made half a circle till he came to a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Bucky was lying in a hollow much like his own, only smaller and higher. His chest rose and fell with uneven breathes. Any relieve Steve should have felt at seeing his friend – alive – left his body like the air rushing out of a burst balloon. He seemed to shrink.

‘Cause Bucky was alive. But there was also an piece of metal the size of hand, sticking from his left upper leg. Blood dripped from his trousers to the ground.

‘Bucky,’ Steve said, trying to keep his voice calm and desperately failing. ‘Bucky, hold on. I am coming for you.’

Bucky gave no reaction. Panic climbed the back of his neck while Steve felt along the rubbish that was blocking his way, till he got his hands on a big, undefined piece of wood that didn’t look like it was supporting anything. Carefully, he tried to shift it. Nothing came crashing down, just some more dust flew up. Steve’s eyes were tearing.

While he shifted the wooden board out of the way, he tried not to let haste get the better of him. His heart was thumbing high in his chest, but he managed to move the thing fully aside without making more tumble down. Immediately after that, he scrambled forward and sunk next to Bucky on his knees.

His friend was pale, his brow knitted even in unconsciousness. A thin sheen of sweat made his too long hair stick to his cheeks. Very, very lightly, Steve tucked the strand behind his ears.

It wasn’t lightly enough.

Buck’s eyes flew open.

The next moment there was a hand around Steve’s throat. Painfully gasping for oxygen, he clutched Bucky’s wrist.

‘Buck,’ he said between two harsh breaths. ‘Bucky, pall, it’s me. Steve. You’re save. I am going to take care of you.’

Bucky slowly blinked. His eyes were big, sad, filled with a pain so raw Steve felt like being frozen all over again. The cold clawed his insides to shreds.

Then the hand was pulled back and Steve’s lungs mercifully filled with air and dust. Bucky tried to get away from him, but he barely managed any movement before he screamed and fell back tot he ground. Every exhale was now paired with something dangerously close to a whimper.

‘Bucky,’ Steve repeated, putting a hand on his abdomen to keep him from moving. ‘Stay still, all right?’

‘Leg,’ Bucky gasped. ‘Hurts.’

Again he tried to get upright, maybe to take a look at the injury, but Steve moved his hand to his right shoulder and pushed him back.

Bucky screamed again. Steve could feel the shoulder moving in a unnatural way before he quickly withdrew his hand.

‘God, Buck, I am so sorry! Can you tell me where you are hurt?’

‘No, you - ’ Talking seemed a great effort and Steve would rather not make him do it, but he wasn’t a doctor and he needed to _know_. One look around was enough to realize they weren’t getting help anytime soon; they were to deep into the ruins of the building. No sound from the outside world was to be heard. ‘You – you can’t touch me,’ Bucky said. ‘Leave me alone. I’ll - the Wintersoldier - ’

Vague as his sentences were and weak as his voice sounded, Steve understood. Pain slackened his control; they had seen that again just moments ago. Even in this state, Bucky was afraid to hurt him. It made Steve’s heart clench.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to you, okay? Keep you grounded. I’m with you till the end of the line, pall.’

Bucky didn’t have enough energy to resist more. Instead he answered, slowly, like he was making the inventory as he went along: ‘Right shoulder’s dislocated. Head hurts. Ribs are… cracked or… broken, maybe. My leg - ’

Steve wasn’t sure he actually wanted to hear the end of that sentence, and it never came.

‘All right,’ he said, pretending to be calm, even though panic was screaming bloody murder inside his mind, ‘I will see about your head first.’

He shoved his hand behind Buck’s head, keeping up a steady stream of nonsense, but didn’t find anything more then a bump. A slight concussion maybe – he was strongly suspecting he had one himself, too – but nothing worse. That was good. He tried very hard not to look at the leg.

Maybe it would be best to first put the joint back into place. Ease at least some of Bucky’s pain. ‘I can relocate a shoulder,’ he said, unsure who he was trying to convince, ‘It’s not that hard.’

Gently, he laid a hand on Bucks upper arm. ‘It will hurt, though. But only for a few moments. And you will feel better afterwards.’

‘I know,’ Bucky said through gritted teeth. ‘Am not a child.’

Yet he didn’t move away from Steve’s soft touch.

Steve then concentrated on getting into the right position. If he did it well, he would be able to do this with one quick pull. Buck tensed beneath his hands, his fingers curling into fists. He yelled when Steve pulled. His metal arm flew up and his fingers duck in Steve’s shoulder, who pretended not to see the tears springing to his friends eyes, right before he squeezed them shut.

They were both very still after that, Bucky trying to breath through the pain and Steve letting his friend hold onto him. Eventually, Buck let out a shuddering sigh and pulled back his hand.

‘Okay,’ Steve said. He still tried to sound confident. ’I am now going to get to your leg. Try to stay still.’ He moved lower beside Bucky’s body. Up close, the wound was even more gruesome. The metal was keeping him from bleeding out to much, but it had buried itself deep into muscle and flesh. Cauterizing it would be the best way, only he hadn’t got anything to do that with.

Without knowing what he looked for, he glanced around. His gaze fell on a lighter, lying abandoned between what seemed the last bits of a desk. There was metal enough here. And the piece of wood he had removed…

Steve was already turning, ready to get started, when something touched his wrist.

‘Please,’ Bucky said. His eyes were now glazed over and he trembled. He was going into shock. ‘Don’t… leave me.’

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes from filling with tears. Quickly he blinked them away, smoothing back Bucks hair. ‘Never, pall. I am just going to get the stuff I need to help you. It will only be minutes.’

Bucky nodded, seemingly exhausted.

It indeed took no longer then a few minutes to get a fire started and the iron heated. Steve was happy he had been clever enough to move back to the place he had waken up in; smoke curled thickly between the rubble. When he reached Bucky again, the former-assassin was barely conscious. However, he still managed to open his eyes and tense when he saw what Steve had brought.

‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Buck squared his jaw. Barely audible he whispered: ‘I know.’

Waiting wouldn’t make things better. Still, Steve had never felt so sick in his life, as when he pulled out the metal in one move with his right hand, and immediately pushed the heated plate against the wound. Bucky recoiled, howling, but Steve kept his leg pinned to the ground.

As soon as the wound was closed, he threw his torture-device away and moved up to Bucks head. Tears were lining his cheeks now, and he was softly whimpering.

‘It’s okay,’ Steve whispered. ‘It’s done. You are alright.’

‘Gonna be - ’Bucky moaned. Steve was just in time pulling him upright. As Bucky threw up next to him, he held his shaking body and rubbed gentle circles on his back. Even when his friend was done, they stayed like that, Bucky slumped against him, completely drained. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had let anyone touch him like that.

‘Shhh,’ he mumbled. 'You are fine.’

And then, he suddenly heard a voice. It was very faint, far away, but it was a real voice, a voice he knew. ‘Cap? Steve, you there? Barnes?’ Sam’s voice.

‘We are here!’ Steve screamed back, with all his might. ‘We are alive! But Buck is hurt!’

There was momentary pause. Then another voice joined the first one, one Steve recognized as Natasha. ‘Hold on!’ she yelled. ‘We are coming to get you!’

On impulse, Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s sweaty hear. ‘You hear that, pall?’ he said. ‘Hold on. They are coming to get us.’


End file.
